Sheila
by scaled wanderer
Summary: A short story about how a traveling Argonian aquires his first impression of the land, and people, of Skyrim. Too bad first impressions are lasting impressions. Rated T for minor blood and gore as well as some minor language. Reviews/criticisms welcomed.


_**Sheila**_

**Day I:**

My name is Sah-Rizeen and today, I killed Sheila. I'm just an average Saxheel who had entered the realm of Skyrim in the hopes of starting a new life working one of the many mines and striking it rich. As with many travelers, my path led me through the small village of Riverwood. I had started to run low on dried fish and was scoffing myself for not buying some food in Helgen prior to leaving, but I was so sure I could make it to Riverwood before I ran out and was in a bit of a hurry to get to my destination. I had taken a small nap in the noon-day sun yesterday shortly after eating the last slice of fish and awoke to the sun setting on the horizon. It was dark out by the time I entered the rough-cut stone arch that marked the south entrance to the little brown hamlet, my stomach aching.

That's when I saw her, standing in the moonlight near a rickety wooden bridge, just inside and to the left of the grey entrance, leading to a saw mill. Her round eyes, sparkling in the subdued light from the bright disk in the night sky, had not caught sight of me. With a blazing hunger burning my gut and thumping in my brain, I couldn't help myself. I crept through the rough thistles and brush until I was close. She never saw it coming. I lept out of the shadows and wrapped my strong, scaly hands around her little throat just as she had let out a loud shreak that pierced through the night for a split second. She struggled and I almost lost my grip, but with a quick jerk to the side and a sharp 'crack' it was over. I pulled out my iron dagger and cut into her side and pulled out her liver and tossed it into my mouth. After abating my hunger somewhat with that small, warm morsel I started contemplating on building a small fire outside town at this point to cook the rest.

I had barely stood up with my prize in my arms when a dog started barking loudly in my direction. It was baying as it was running down the road from the north side of town. A large figure appeared from the building near the bridge and ran out onto the road and shushed the dog as he began sweeping the moonlit darkness with his gaze. I made out the outline of a mace in his other hand. He quickly spotted me next to the river, lit up as I was with the light of the twin moons bathing the area.

"Stop where you are! Who are you!?" he yelled.

"I am a weary traveler in need of supplies" I said loudly. As I stepped towards him, he saw what was in my arms. He said something softly and I stopped, trying to make out his features in the dim light.

"Murderer..." He whispered again, this time a little more loudly so I could hear. He began pointing his mace at my future meal in my hands. The dog began growling menacingly.

"I don't kno..." I tried to spit out but was cut off by a loud yell from the man.

**"MURDERER!"**

His yell rent the darkness and the dog started braying and howling again. More people started coming out of the buildings, some with weapons. I dropped the small body in my hands and bolted across the bridge, not sure what was going on, but it couldn't be good for my health. As I made it to the other side of the bridge a slender figure materialized from the shadow of the saw mill and held a drawn bow in my direction. I skidded to a halt, heart thumping in my chest and looked at the cold river. I hesitated at the thought of jumping into the freezing thing. That moment of hesitation was a bad idea because a sudden case of white stars and and a sharp pain in the back of my head made me think about sleep once more. I obliged and slipped into the darkness.

* * *

**Day II:**

I awoke to a bright sun peaking over the horizon and fresh dew soaking my clothes. My head was throbbing and I had a string of drool from my chin to my dirty cotton shirt. I tried moving my right hand to wipe off the spittle and dried blood that had previously oozed out of my snout but found it bound tightly to the other behind my back. I noticed a bit of blood in my drool as well and I snapped fully awake. The night before came rushing back. I took in my surroundings as I pondered my predicament. I was leaning against a post that supported a small patio sporting an array of blacksmithing utensils and stations. Upon tryin to stand up a short length of rough rope around my neck made itself known by tuggin me back down to the ground, coughing. I winced as I sat on my tail wrong and squirmed to get it into a more comfortable position.

"I wouldn't try that again if I were you." came a gruff voice from behind me.

I turned my head a little to the left and spied a large, burly, blonde haired Nord man in a blacksmith apron standing in the doorway leading out to the front walkway softly tugging his beard while staring hard at me with his cold blue eyes. The face of a small brown haired girl appeared from behind the mountain of a man, her face was streaked with tears and grief, a dribble of snot running over her upper lip. I swallowed hard at the look on her round face. That look made me want to find a nice hole and bury myself in it.

"You killed Sheila." was all she squeaked out before ducking back inside the wooden building with a sob. I swallowed hard.

"Why'd ya do it,_ lizard_?" asked the man, his voice cutting into me.

"I was hungry" I sheepishly replied, "I didn't kn..."

"Enough!" He shouted at me. "An guard patrol from Whiterun will be through here tomorrow to take your scaly ass out of here. I hope they give you the axe for what you did to our family!"

I broke his gaze and stared hard at the dirt under my thin leather boots in realization of what I had done. I brought my eyes up and met the gaze of an old lady on her porch accross the path. The scowl on her face would have made a cave bear run and hide. I looked at the dirt again and started wringing my hands as best I could but they didn't move much, bound as tightly as they were. An itch started to grow from the dried blood on my snout. It started small but soon grew. My nostrils burned. I squirmed some more to try and scratch my snout on something, anything. Tears started to form in my eyes. My woven leash was just short enough to cause my head spikes to catch on the pole and prevent me from turning my head around enough to get a good scratching on the post at my back.

"I guess you don't like the thought of the axe, scoundrel" came the gruff voice from behind me again. "Just you sit there and keep thinking about it." Heavy bootsteps on the wooden porch moved around behind me and then stopped. Then the sharp 'ping' of metal on metal reverberated throughout the town. That sound cutting into my nerves, combined with the burning itch on my snout and the hunger pangs in my gut, caused my aching head to swim and I proceeded to pass out.

* * *

I awoke to sharp jab in the side of my neck. I growled, as anyone who was awoken to sharp jabs in the neck would do, and opened my eyes. A blonde villager boy clad in simple clothes was standing over me, a long stick clutched in his hand. A wicked grin spread across his slender face as he poked me in the neck again. I gave a louder growl and jerked towards him, causing him to jump back and fall on his arse. As my luck would have it, the blacksmith appeared in time to see him fall.

"What did you do to him, murderer?!" he bellowed as he jumped between me and the boy.

I didn't speak. The boy got what he deserved. It didn't look like the blacksmith was in a listening mood anyways.

"Frodnar, go to your mother." He said over his shoulder to the boy. "And stay away from the lizard should he attack again."

The boy gets up and runs off, but not before shooting a sly smile my way, behind the blacksmith's back. I bared my teeth at the boy in response but got a swift kick in the ribs from a large steel-toed boot.

"There will be enough of that!" growled the blacksmith.

"But I..." I started to say, but was rewarded with another kick to the side of the head. That was enough to caused me to pass out, yet again.

* * *

A cold rush yanked me from my dreams of the marsh. The blacksmith was standing over me with an empty bucket in his hands. Dusk was just beginning to settle in. My stomach growled loudly. I hadn't eaten all day, and not much the day before. My mouth was so dry my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. My skull still had dull ache in the lower back part where it met my spine. My hands were numb from being bound so tight for so long. Life was not good right now.

"You thirsty?" he asked flatly, reaching down to another bucket of water at his feet. I opened my mouth to reply but instead caught a facefull of water as the other bucket of water was dumped on me. I barely got a mouthfull of the cold fluid down before it was all gone. It was enough to un-stick my tongue though. The blacksmith gave a sneer as he gathered up the other bucket and walked back inside.

My stomach decided to let me know what it thought at that moment, loudly. The light was slipping away, and with it, went the heat of the sun. Being wet wasn't helping out any as well. Small, glowing yellow-green lights started to appear from the trees and shrubs. It was dark enough for the torch bugs to come out. One decided that my face was a good spot to hover over. I stilled myself as best as I could. It hovered closer and closer, buzzing softly in the dim light. I stared transfixed at this little bug for a few seconds before my stomach growled again. I figured I'd wait just a little bit more as the little ball of light was in reach. Dam bug was taking it's time, just floating there, taunting me. When I was sure I could reach it, I snapped my head forward and opened my mouth. But I had misjudged and hit the end of my leash, hard. I did manage to snag one of the bugs wings in my front teeth. It sat there flapping away. I was afraid to open my mouth again in case the bugger decided to get away from me. Soon enough it found its footing on my snout and I opened my mouth and snaked out my toungue and quickly yanked it in. A sour burst of flavor and a quick gulp and I had something in my stomach. It wasn't much, but it was still something. My stomach decided to rumble away anyways.

My thoughts turned to what I had done the previous night. I did not know that she had a family that loved her. I felt shameful for what I had done. I deserve to be punished for the pain I caused. I thought of the face of the little girl behind the blacksmith, the face that showed so much sorrow, and I sunk lower.

The cold was starting to seep in much deeper now. I started to shiver a little bit. Both moons had arisen into the night sky, shedding their soft moonlight across me. More torch bugs and lunar moths flitted about, but none came as close as my most recent meal. I could hear muffled movement and talking coming from within the blacksmith's house. Soon even that was silenced. All was still in the night. I dozed off in my thoughts of guilt.

* * *

**Day III:**

"Here is the murderer, ser" said a dragonfly in my dreams in a gruff voice. This startled me for dragonflies don't talk, especially with the voice of a certain blacksmith. A swift pain in the side of my head brought me back to reality and I groggily opened my eyes to a leather gloved hand about to smack my head again. I snapped my head up and rapidly blinked the sleep from my eyes. The first thing to come into focus was the yellow cloth and chain mailed body kneeling in front of me. As my vision cleared I could see he had dark, short cut hair, a brooding set of grey eyes that looked like they hadn't seen enough sleep in the past, and rather strong jawline. His iron helmet was beside him on the ground and yellow shield with a horsehead crest was leaning upon it. His other hand rested on the pommel of the sword sheathed at his hip.

The Nord guardsman stood up and turned around to the small crowd of villagers behind him. All of them had a look of extreme hatred upon their faces and were whispering amongst themselves. Three additional guards in matching yellow cloth and chainmail uniforms stood off to the side, looking uninterested in what was going on.

"What's his name, Alvor?" he said to the crowd in a somewhat bored voice.

"Don't know, he doesn't speak much, sergeant." said the blacksmith, stepping forward. It was apparent he was a bit annoyed by how the guard appeared to be handling the situation.

The seargeant turned back in my direction, scratching his clean shaven jaw, thinking hard. I couldn't help but notice that he was taking a lot longer then one normally should at thinking about such things as murder.

"And exactly who did he murder?" He drawled on after a few minutes longer of deep thought.

"He murdered Sheila, a loved member of our family. I saw him standing there," he points to the wooden bridge over the river nearby, "with her body in his arms. His dagger was still wet with her blood. My daughter and wife are mourning the loss as we speak."

"Murder, eh? Well that's a not an easy one to get out of, my scaly friend. What have you to say for yourself?"

"I was only..."

"We also found that he had eaten her liver shortly after he... butchered her." cut in Alvor.

I think I'm just going to give up speaking to these people entirely.

"Well, by the Eight, murder AND cannibalism?" said the sergeant raising a bushy black eyebrow. "Guess we'll have to take him up to Whiterun and toss him into jail to await trial. Did he have anything on him?"

"Yes he had a few things, let me go get them."

Alvor stepped past and went inside his house as the sergeant gave a signal to one of his fellow guardsman to cut me loose. Once my bindings were severed I was able to message my numb hands for a few brief seconds before they were siezed and a set of iron manacles were clamped on them. They weren't much better then the rough rope that was just removed. Alvor stepped back outside as the guards assembled into a diamond formation around me, with the sergeant in the front.

"This was all he confiscated from him, pretty pitiful really." he said tossing my near-empty sack to the sergeant from the porch. He turned dirty leather thing over and dumped the contents out onto the ground. I caught sight of my dagger and ragged and rather thin leather bedroll, and that was it. It really was a pitiful sight. The only thing I noticed was missing was my coin pouch, which made me a little angry even though there were only two septims in it. I kept silent. They probably wouldn't have listened to me, or wouldn't even have let me finish speaking.

After unceremoniously tossing my things back into my bag, the sergeant tossed it to the guard on my left. After picking up his shield and donning his helmet and a quick "Lets go," we were off. As we walked past I noticed the blacksmith's daughter standing in the doorway of their house with her mother, both had red rimmed eyes and shiny cheeks from the tears. Their scowls burned into my heart. I had hurt their family. I had murdered one of their loved ones. I felt so sorry for what I had done.

When we had gotten to the large stone bridge on the north side of town the noon sun was high in the sky. In my sorrow I started to mumble a little bit to myself while staring at my feet plodding along behind the sergeant. The guard to my right looked at me out of the slit of his helm with a curious gaze.

"What did you say?"

"I said I didn't mean to..." I stopped expecting to be interrupted in some way. The guard kept his eyes locked onto mine, demanding I answer him. "I... I didn't mean to kill that chicken-daughter of the blacksmith. I didn't mean to kill Sheila!"

I hit something hard that had come to a complete stop in front of me. The guard behind me didn't stop either and ended up catching one of my horns in the eye as he crashed into me. I let out an "oomph" as all the wind was expelled out of my lungs from being squished between two rather large Nords wearing armor. The sergeant drops his shield, whips around, pulls off his helmet and grabbed my shoulder with his free hand and locked eyes with me.

"Did you just say you killed a _chicken_?" he said with a look of disbelief in his face.

I nodded. "I feel really guilty about killing something that is considered part of the family here. I honestly did not know you Nords considered livestock as brothers or sisters. I'm sorry!"

"No we don't consider...chicken-daughter...and it's not that big of a crime if..." he sputtered while pinching the bridge of his nose with a forefinger and thumb and squinting his eyes. He walks back across the bridge then calls back "You three, stay with him. I'll handle this." as he re-enters the town, still pinching the bridge of his nose. Two of the guards looked like they were stifling some laughter, while the third was rubbing a sore eye, not in as cheery mood as his brothers.

After a bit of yelling and shouting coming from the town, the sergeant made his way back out to us on the other side of the bridge, clenching his helmet in between both hands. His face is as red as an tomato as he takes a deep breath then looks at me. He pulls a key out of a pocket and takes off my manacles. It felt good to have blood flowing back to my fingers.

"Ok then. The cost of a chicken is about thirty septims. I'm gonna add on ten septims for causing the family grief. You are to chop wood until you make the forty septims to pay off Alvor. Once you're community service is complete, you are free to go on to... wherever you were going." He points at the guard with the sore eye and the one still holding my bag. "You two will remain behind to ensure the sentence is carried out, then report back to the barracks in Whiterun once it is complete." He points to the third guard, who was snickering behind his closed helm. "You come with me. We have the rest of our route to cover." With that, he crams his helmet back on, picks up his shield and stomps away muttering to himself. I could only make out "...waste of my time..." before he disappeared around the bend in the road, with the third guard hurrying to catch up.

And that is how I know not to kill chickens in Skyrim.


End file.
